


love the way you shiver

by liesmith



Category: NoPixel, no pxiel
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, you ever murder a dude and get a boner?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: curtis doesn't mind being an attack dog sometimesorthe company can be annoying, though
Relationships: curtis swoleroid/juan carlos "flippy" hernandez
Kudos: 8





	love the way you shiver

Someone pissed JJ off, so that instantly became Curtis’ problem. Not that he hates cleaning up messes, it _is_ fun to shoot and all, but sometimes JJ just gets annoyed if someone breathes the air around him wrong. Still, Curtis accepts the job graciously, because he also likes money, and JJ smiles all teeth at him and offers a plus one. He’s not going to a stupid wedding, but Curtis doesn’t necessarily mind an extra body, especially if he’s going to be stuck alone for awhile.

He comes to find out, after a few hours, he absolutely fucking hates his plus one.

Flippy is doing a ‘i can’t sit still so i have to pace’ walk in front of him as Curtis sits back against a building’s generator, a sniper rifle between his crossed legs as his eyes just move back and forth behind his sunglasses as he watches Flippy. The sound of his steps are mind numbing and Curtis wants to throw a leg out, trip him and make him stop, but that would just ensue fighting. He’s got kind of a headache at the base of his skull already from just driving out to Sandy, fucking dust and shit and the sun, and Flippy’s not making any of it easier. Why can’t he just sit like a good plus one and look pretty? That’s what they do at weddings.

At least, Curtis thinks they do. Instead, he clears his throat, resting his temple against the rifle. “Sit down, dude. You’re making me nervous.”

“It’s boring as fuck out here,” It gets Flippy to stop pacing at least and he squats down, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands as he stares at Curtis. Kind of creepy, actually, like a weird cat. That’s pretty much what Flippy is; a weird cat. He’s zoned out that he doesn’t hear the rest of what Flippy is saying, blinking slowly behind his sunglasses before Flippy’s reaching over, snapping in his face. Curtis startles, blinking a few times before huffing out.

“The fuck, man?”

“You were spacey,” Flippy moves to sit on his bottom instead, legs crossing at the ankle as he folds his hands in his lap, like some nice choir boy. Now he’s kind of looking like a nice wedding plus one, “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what? Think to myself?”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you’re balls at it,” Flippy huffs out and Curtis grumps, reaching up to tilt his sunglasses down a little to look at him over it, “you always fuck up our jobs, you kno-”

“What? Who the fuck donked their little whiny bitch ass head tripping over himself last job that almost cost us everything? And I had to carry the whiny bitch ass to the car?”

“That was an accident!” Flippy’s voice raises a little, “that path wasn’t the same we looked at!”

“Yes it was! You’re just dumb!” Curtis throws a hand up, pushing his sunglasses back up and staring back up at the sky, starting to cloud over in the fading afternoon light. JJ said the guy usually crawled out drunk after gambling for a few hours down in the city to come to this bar in Sandy, so all Curtis has to do is pop him on his way in. Easy enough. Maybe not so easy right now with Flippy bitching at him, which Curtis’ mind helpfully joins him too once again, halfway through said bitching.

“-and your car got all fucked up, like, we could have crashed! And _that_ would have fucked us too! So me bumping my dumb ass head doesn’t have anything to do with-”

Curtis drops the rifle, leans forward, fists a hand in Flippy’s t-shirt, and yanks him into a kiss. Flippy tenses, hands reaching out to grab Curtis’ shoulders to steady himself, before he relaxes and responds in the like, grip loosening. Curtis just hums as he pulls back from Flippy, eyes lid behind his glasses.

“You gonna shut the fuck up?”

Flippy grunts, looking away as he lets go of Curtis, arms crossing over his chest in an attempt to be defiance, or some shit. Like Curtis cares. “You can’t kiss me every time you want me to shut up.”

“I could,” Curtis leans back against the generator again, using a hand on the roof to steady himself as he leans over a little, peering over the edge and giving a small look around. Still nothing yet, “would that bother you?”

Flippy huffs. “It’s rude, but so are you.”

“Haha, yea,” Curtis nods, setting the rifle down besides him and gesturing Flippy over, legs falling open, “come here.”

Flippy takes a moment but he’s crawling in between Curtis’ legs, positioning himself so his knees bracket Curtis’ thighs, pressing into the dark suit pants. “What do you want?”

“Kiss me,” Curtis murmurs, tilting his face up, and purrs soft and sweet as Flippy obliges his demand, eyes drifting shut behind his sunglasses as Flippy’s hands cup his cheeks, cradling Curtis’ face in his signature too intimate too fast way, but it doesn’t bother him. Curtis just relaxes against the generator, allowing Flippy to control the kiss for now, gloved hands lifting to slide through the mess of dark hair, starting to become unstyled from the humidity of the desert. Flippy’s hands squish his cheeks briefly before dropping to his chest, fingers curling around the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling the fabric tight as his tongue slides along Curtis’ bottom lip. Gently, it slides between his lips and Curtis purrs sweetly, mind instantly clouding over with desire, his own tongue meeting Flippy’s as they curl together.

The kiss only lasts a moment longer before Flippy’s pulling away, panting softly as he looks down at Curtis, hands loosening on his suit jacket before dropping lower, pressing against his thighs. Curtis is trying to resist the urge to be cocky, leaning up slightly to drag his lips against Flippy’s jaw, feeling the slight bit of scruff growing. Flippy’s head tilts back as Curtis’ mouth moves to his throat next, the bob of his Adam's apple that Curtis bites against, enjoying the sharp inhale from the body in front of him.

Curtis is brought out of his thoughts when he hears a car, grabbing the rifle at his side. A Mustang is driving up the beat up road and Curtis exhales through his nose, trying to ignore the hands now between his legs. Now that he has Flippy riled up, he’s not going to stop, but that’s not a problem. Curtis lets go of the rifle and quickly flips them, covering Flippy’s body with his own onto the roof. Under him, Flippy’s giving a small gasp for breath, the wind knocked out of him, and Curtis just grabs the rifle again. He has little time to set up the way he wants, aiming down the scope as the Mustang pulls to a stop near the bar.

He takes a breath, watches the car door open, and takes fire.

The sound is deafening out in the desert. Curtis let’s go of the rifle, laying his body flat against Flippy’s, waiting for any sort of recourse to come. When nothing comes, no doors banging, no frantic words, Curtis slowly lifts his head, looking at the scene laid out. He can just make out the body by the driver’s side of the car, clearly long gone from this world now.

Slowly he sits up, bottom against Flippy, and fishes his phone out from the inside of his suit jacket. Flippy’s dead silent beneath him as Curtis aims his phone’s camera, zooming in slightly and taking the picture before sending it to JJ, and only when the phone disappears back inside, does Flippy _whimper_. It’s a sweet sound and brings Curtis back to just a few moments ago, and it dawns on him he’s just sitting on Flippy’s cock, tented through his sweats.

Right. Curtis did that.

“... C-Curtis,” Flippy speaks up, voice barely above a whisper, and the brunet hums softly. Yeah, he could throw the body beneath him a bone. Curtis gives a gentle grind before he’s lifting off of Flippy before sliding between his legs. He just barely pulls Flippy out over the waistband of his boxers and sweats, making him whine as he’s freed. Curtis just licks his lips, free hand pushing his sunglasses into his hair before he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Flippy’s tip, tongue darting out just to taste the precum gathered at his tip. Flippy jerks under him from the stimulation and Curtis just laughs, hand pressing down against Flippy’s hip.

“Calm down, Flip. I got you.”

And with that, Curtis presses his palm against Flippy’s pelvis, thumb pressing just against his base and rubbing as Curtis swallows some of him. It’s been a little since Curtis has sucked a dick, but he remembers how good Flippy tastes, the weight of him hot in his mouth as Curtis sucks. It feels nice to just suck, anyways, before he starts to gradually bob his head, eyes lidding. Fuck, Flippy tastes so good… Curtis reaches down with the hand that was on Flippy’s hip to between his own legs, palming at himself through his suit pants. Flippy is whimpering his name above him, a sweet sound that’s fueling Curtis a little more, bobbing his head faster as the air is filled with the wet noise of him sucking down Flippy, the hump of his hips against his gloved hand.

They’re both wound up from adrenaline and Flippy cracks first, always does, back arching off the roof as he cums, crying out Curtis’ name like he’s meant too. Curtis swallows it down, popping off of Flippy with an obscene sound. If Curtis was a smarter man, he’d undo his own pants, pull himself out and cum on Flippy’s stomach, but he can’t muster the brain cells, sitting back on his legs as he openly humps his hand for Flippy to watch before the brunet shakes and cums, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle the moan.

Curtis pants as he falls back on his ass, one hand catching himself as he stares at Flippy, watching him hike his sweats back up and instantly get in Curtis’ space, kissing him with little regard to the taste of himself on Curtis’ mouth. The brunet hums affectionately, returning the kiss and licking at Flippy’s lips before pulling away, touching their foreheads together.

“... So murder makes you horny, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Flippy fumes, instantly switching from the sweet, affectionate needy bitch he is back into the annoying bitch he is, “give me your fucking keys.”

Curtis just laughs as he feels Flippy’s hands on his chest, digging into his suit jacket’s pockets to find the keys, pulling away as soon as he does. He doesn’t even offer to help Curtis up, grabbing the gun instead and starting down the ladder of the roof they’re on. Curtis just follows after he gives it a beat, happily eyeballing Flippy’s retreating ass for a moment before he jogs to catch up with him, slinging an arm around Flippy’s neck as they walk to where the GTR is parked.

“My place is closer.”

“I didn’t say I was coming home with you.”

“Oh, honey. Yes you are,” Curtis purrs, leaning down slightly to nip at the tip of Flippy’s ear, feeling the tense and shiver under him. Hook, line, sinker.

Maybe he could convince JJ for a plus one if this was how they’d turn out in the end, Flippy flushed and twisted under him as Curtis fucks his brains out for the third time that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Been A Hot Minute So Here's A Few Weeks Old Fics.
> 
> normansbones @ twitter


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